The Backpacker Blackhole

There are some places in the world that solely exist to cater to the backpacker sort. (or solely exist because of the backpacker sort). Corfu Greece seems to come to mind. They have everything that a young 18 year old fresh on their gap year would need. A beach, gobs of alcohol, cheesy nightlife to serve the alcohol, one small natural wonder to make it a legitimate stop, but (and most importantly) heaps of other beautiful bodies of the opposite sex all exploding into ripeness due to their leash being recently untied. Combine all of this with a bad lack of judgement and you have what I call a Backpacker Black hole. These are the kinds of places were people show up intending to spend two days and two and half weeks (and half their trip budget) later they are finally getting on a bus to go somewhere else. As they get on that bus they have little recognition of their time spent there and have put at least two of the local bar owners kids through college. I have concluded that Bryon Bay and the whole of the Australian east coast is such a place.

These places at the same time tend to attract a certain breed of people much like a black hole swallows light. It"s definitely a moth to a flame syndrome. Take my roommates in Byron Bay for example. In my dorm room I was placed with eight other 18 to 20 something British girls who, while being nice enough, had a knack to talk loudly, gossip incisively about the boys that they have kissed on their travels, and constantly walked around in their underwear despite my presence in the room. And speaking of room-they had this amazing ability to create chaos where ever they went. By the end of my two day stay our dorm room had became a bottomless pit of clothes, bags, playing cards, empty bottles, hair products, and women's underwear. Everywhere. Now don't get me wrong. Not that I mind a bunch of girls in the prime of their lives with hot accents walking around in their underwear. They just weren't exactly my cup of tea. I would say more along the lines of a strange mix of milk and soda.

So how do you avoid the effects of a black hole? You skim the horizon, take a good look into the center void and carry on to your next destination before the forces take hold of you and you are caught. Needless to say, I am keeping a pretty regimented schedule and sticking to it as I head up the east coast. But that doesn't mean I am impervious to the effects of gravity from time to time.

Most of my time in Byron Bay was taken up with planing the next two weeks, trying to meet sane people and surfing. And before I go on with my little story about gravity I would like to interject once again about surfing. I wanted to clear up my previous post about surfing. -I don't dislike surfing. I am just not very good at it yet. In fact, I have found a good spot near the "Wreck" and the right sized board for me and I have been able to get up quite a bit and it is a goal of mine to surf as much as possible while I am here. Just today I attended a surfing contest in Noosa.-but back to my story about gravity.

My second day in Byron Bay I was surfing and while taking a break on the beach I met a fellow from Norway by the name of Chris. Mind you the first clue that I was about to be sucked into the Black hole would have been the fact that Chris has been in Byron Bay for 10 days. He invited me over to his hostel for a BBQ. He was a nice enough fellow, I hadn't really met anyone to hang out with and it was St. Patricks day after all so I said yes.. Upon arrival I found that the BBQ was an endless sea of backpackers and tables full of cheap beer and boxed wine. (they call it Goons here for some reason). After 2 hours of endless drinking games and pre-drinking we ended the night by visiting to well known Bryon Bay establishments. The Beach Hotel (Aussies sometimes call their bars "hotels") and a funny little place called "Cheeky Monkeys" were people dance on the tables all night. The next thing I knew I awoke the next morning fully clothed in my dorm bed. Apparently I had the will and determination to make it back to my bed and to retrieve my alarm clock from my bag. But somewhere between retrieving my alarm clock and actually setting it I fell short in the task. I awoke with alarm clock in hand fully poised to set the actual alarm. The time was 8:30 am. The girls (plus two extra boys they seemed to collect in the night) were passed out in their beds-luckily for me still in their underwear. I had missed my 7:30 am bus to Noosa and the were not others going that day.

I wondered if this was how people get stuck in Byron Bay for ten days. They want to leave but who can argue with gravitational forces?

Remember in my previous post when I talked about controlling things and letting go when you travel such as this? This is a good example. In the end I was able to catch an evening bus to Brisbane for the night and from their catch a bus to Noosa the next day before I headed up to Rainbow Beach for my grand venture into Frasier Island. I had wanted to hit both Noosa and Brisbane but was forced to pick only one due to time constraints. Because of my delayed departure from Byron Bay the bus schedule actually worked out better to hit both and I got what I wanted with out controlling anything. Sometimes its best to just let the forces of the universe work things out for you.

Speaking of buses I want to leave you with one side thought. I bought a Greyhound Australia bus pass that allows my to hop on and off what ever buses they have running up the east coast. And I just need to really point out that they have really gotten it right. Now keep in mind that this is not the Greyhound that we have come to despise in the States. Its definitely not the smelly, dirty bus with the guy in the back that has been traveling for two weeks with out showering and who is currently cutting his toenails in the back of the bus. No Greyhound Australia, with it shining new red buses and middle age drivers who wear blue shirts and shorts with knee high socks and who actually load your baggage on the bus for you, is a far cry from its brethren in the States. The drivers even seem to dish out their service with a smile and a good sense of humor. And magically they produce a list with my name on it to board every time I add a segment to my pass on line.

If only the universe was so tightly run.